Through My Eyes
by Yero's Fae
Summary: We all know why Elphaba became Wicked in the novel, but why did she behave as she did at Shiz? What secrets does this girl hold? Now an answer. Please R&R or I'll send my monkeys after you!
1. My Father, my fear

Note: I own nothing in Wicked; though have taken to putting a bit of my own personality into Elphaba's. Don't worry; she will still be sarcastic and witty, even as a young girl.

**Like Mother, Like Daughter**

Everywhere she turned, she heard his voice; saw his eyes holding fire behind them. She would have hated to even have his eyes, though he would have killed her as an infant. But she was certainly her mother, even at only 12. And it was this Frex feared of his oldest daughter. Elphaba had Melena's emerald green eyes with flecks of brown that would fade as she grew, but the skin was a mystery no one could explain. The youngest Thropp daughter had hazel eyes, honey brown hair, and fair skin- all opposite her sister, who had hair the color of a raven and was perfectly straight. What the sisters had in common, however, was their personality and drive of their mother, though Elphaba held it more openly than Nessa. Each of them was fighters and held views on things. Usually, this got them into trouble with Frex. Elphaba was independent and didn't care what others thought or said of her and seemed sure of herself, while Nessa was more to herself and a sweet natured soul who never thought she was good enough. Little did these sisters know was that as years passed, their bond would only grow, causing them to ironically, drift apart.

"Maybe if you hadn't of hid my books, I wouldn't be down there!" the green girl cried, emerald eyes fierce as she glared at her father. She had again, gone down into the sort of basement to fetch the books on magic and the like, against her father's wishes. Perhaps she did it to simply spite the man. Frex shot back, bringing his hand back, "Maybe you should listen to me." Elphaba nearly lost her footing, though still fell to the floor, and didn't cry. Not infront of him anyway.

Alone she sat in the room that would never reflect her as a person, the crème bedding and walls. The high ceiling with it's mesmerizing chandler of crystal, sending off beams of blues, violets, rubies, oranges, and even emeralds. Carefully, she applied a small amount of oil to a washcloth, dapping it gently to the stinging cheek. The dizzying sensation had past ages ago, and now lingered the pain of moisture on her skin; even oil caused her to wince ever so slightly. Elphaba's eyes darted to the door, which she had locked, before grazing to the single bookshelf, which held her novels, but now held those of religion. _I'm starting to lose the fate in the Unnamed God and Lureline I had._ Before falling into a light sleep, she had unlocked the door and laid on her side, slender green fingers seeming like flower stems on anything she touched. It was a curse, she knew, that would only get worse as each second, minuet, year, that passed.


	2. That's What Friends Are For

Fae's note: Yeah, I still own nothing of Wicked. –sigh-

That's What Friends Are For 

She had known him for years, since she was merely a toddler. Boq was his name, and he was a Munchkin. They had met at a sort of play area for the kids of the town Nest Harding's; that damn place. Like all good friends, he had always been there for her and was one of the few people Elphie felt she could trust. Never did she turn to her father for advice. _And be scolded and verbally abused, I think not._

It was a typical sunny day out, and the green girl was sitting outside, pointed petite nose in a book. The main reason she did read as much as she did was for one reason: Escape. Why else would the daughter of a minister and Governor want to read? People always say ministers' daughters are the worst to deal with. Elphaba was an exception to the rule, as was Nessie. Too caught up in her reading, she nearly let out a small scream when someone had come up behind her, casting a shadow on the text. It was only her childhood friend; her "brother", as she had often thought of him. "Boq, you scared me. You know not to sneak up on me," she had said, closing the novel and setting it aside. The boy moved stray pieces of stray colored hair from his sky blue eyes and grinned, taking a seat beside her. "Elphie, anything scares you. I could pretend to yell at you and-" He quickly cut himself off, seeing the look of ice Elphaba was giving him. _He KNOWS not to joke about things like that with me._ Quietly, the girl spoke, twirling a piece of raven hair around her fingers, in an absentminded way. "It's alright, Boq. Sometimes you forget; I understand. I'm just glad I can count on you to be there when I do want to talk." Without another word or thought, she stood; the book tucked under an arm and was gone. Even as a girl, she had held that mysteriousness to her, a sort of secretiveness.

It seemed odd that the moment she left her friend, did the sky become dark with a summer storm on its way. Quickly she began to run to the house as the rain began to fall. It burned her face and bare arms and legs to the point where a shrill scream escaped her lips. The thing about her allergy was different to say the least. She could drink water like anyone else, as well tea, coffee, etc., anything that was water or water based. But when it touched her skin even for a second, it was as if someone had doused her entire body with scolding water or acid. Finally she reached her home, only to find the door locked. In a side window stood Frex, a twisted and loathing look in his eyes that frightened her more than anything. "Papa, please!" Elphaba screamed, beginning to hit the door with a fist until her knuckled began to bleed. He did nothing. Collapsing under the small porch, she shook violently, rocking back and forth to keep from crying out yet again, knowing if she did, the neighbors would talk about the sanity of the Thropp girls. But that's when the pain stopped and for a second, she thought she had imagined it, but no, it was real. Boq had seen what happened and had run home to grab a blanket, knowing about his friend's allergy and the pain it caused. Clutching the wool tighter over her shoulders, she spoke almost brokenly and quietly, "T-thank you… I don't know what I would do without you." To this, Boq grinned smally, and merely said, "That's what friends are for, Elphie."


	3. Through the Looking Glass

Through the Looking Glass 

Silently she crept into her father's bedroom. Her heart beat wildly in her ears, as her emerald eyes darted at every little creak of the floorboards. _I can do this. I've done it before._ Elphaba knew she had only moments before Frex returned from his preachings, leaving her only seconds to recover what was stolen of hers. It was nothing new to have something of hers taken from her father; in her eyes, it posed as a sort of game. In this little 'game' she would pretend she was a great assassin of sorts, having to strike at just the right moment. A door slammed closed below her feet, time running out. Hurriedly she raced to the bookshelf and moved books this way and that, finding the one she needed. Taking the tattered novel in her hands, she dashed out of the room as silently as she had entered. And that was when she ran to the safety of her own highly decorated bedroom.

There she sat on her bed, carefully opening the front cover of the text and taking out a torn photograph. A small smile came to her lips upon the photo of her mother, wearing a stern look in her expression all except a small smirk. It was a mocking sort of smile, the very one Elphaba would wear as she grew older; the one that would become her signature. Setting it down, she looked at her own reflection in the looking glass that hung on the opposite wall above the dresser. There she tried to mirror the face her mother had, holding her head high and figuring out how to make her eyes hold the intensity that Melena's did. Her mother wasn't a stern woman, oh no; quite the opposite in fact. Melena had that kind of personality all the men wanted their women to have: Carefree, spirited, and the ability to be sarcastic and witty. Tucking her hair behind her ears, Elphaba saw none of those traits in herself, except in the matching eyes. Emerald and almond shaped, always challenging someone or something. Always having to be right and win an argument. Lost in her own musings, she didn't notice the door open, didn't notice the stern hand on her narrow shoulders. Mouth agape, she jumped slightly, facing the man she hadn't wished to see.

"Papa, I'm sorry"

It was all she ever said, all she ever did; apologize. Only it never did any good. And this time was no exception. On so many nights as she would cry herself to sleep, she dreamed of going through the looking glass to a world opposite of the one she was living in.


End file.
